


The Prince and the Soldier

by Papillon87



Series: Citadel [2]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut Later, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Dongmin, Royalty, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, The rating will go up eventually but for now you are safe, The relationship tags look awful again - just go with the flow, This fic should be called winter tale is back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28656585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillon87/pseuds/Papillon87
Summary: Bin’s lips tasted like the wine they had drunk, sweet like dark grapes ripened in the hills around the Gaian Sea. Dongmin had seen the vineyards, rows and rows of them, the fruit heavy under the scorching sun, bursts of sweetness on his tongue when he was offered some by the local winemaker.On Dongmin’s lips, Bin’s taste was headier, stronger, making Dongmin more drunk than after any wine he had ever tasted.
Relationships: Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Moon Bin, Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Park Minhyuk | Rocky, Lee Dongmin/Original Female Character
Series: Citadel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100150
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And my favourite au is back!
> 
> For those who have not read Winter Tale, the first part of the series, don’t worry - this is not a sequel so it can be read as a stand-alone fic. (Some things, however, will make slightly more sense if you read it at some point.)
> 
> The Prince and the Soldier is Dongmin’s story while Winter Tale was narrated from Bin’s pov. For those curious about the timeline, the events of this chapter happened right after the first chapter of Winter Tale.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Year 57 of the House of Lee. The Month of Ice**

‘Do you think it a wise idea, Your Highness?’

Commander Kim watched the frantic dance of swirling snowflakes behind the window panes. The dusk had barely fallen but the sparsely furnished room was already shrouded in shadows, the massive fireplace the only source of light and warmth in the room, illuminating the dark panelling and faded tapestries on the walls.

Dongmin stretched his legs in front of the fire, a goblet of mulled wine in his hand. He watched the Commander sitting opposite him in a heavy oak chair, the old man’s eyes not quite meeting his. 

‘What aspect of my idea do you not like, Commander? That the boy is a commoner or that he is a criminal?’

Commander Kim rubbed his hands, as if he were cold, and reached for his goblet standing on a little table between them.

‘To become a member of the Royal Guard is an honour, Your Highness.’ He sighed a little wearily. ‘The most distinguished families send their sons to join our ranks and see it as a privilege. To accept someone who is – forgive me for being blunt – not only a peasant but also a thief would be a serious blow to the reputation we pride ourselves upon. As the Commander of the Guard, I am not sure I want someone like that in our midst.’

Dongmin inhaled the aroma of spices and slowly took a sip, relishing the warmth slipping down his throat. He needed a moment to calm his wildly beating heart because this was a game and he needed to play it wisely. 

He needed to tread carefully now. 

‘I understand your point, Commander, and I value your counsel. I can see why you would not want someone like that joining your ranks. Yes, the boy was poaching and, yes, he should lose a hand for that, not become a recruit of the Royal Guard as a reward.’ 

Dongmin took another gulp to steady his nerves. He could have simply given the order for Bin to be admitted - he was the heir to the throne, after all – but he didn’t want to do that.

Commander Kim was a man, one of few in the Royal household, that Dongmin had deep respect for. If he perhaps felt something more, something akin to love for the old man, he never allowed himself being so sentimental aloud. Gone were the days of his childhood when he would cry himself to sleep, dreaming that not the King was his father, but Commander Kim. A kind man who didn’t humiliate his subordinates, who was perhaps gruff on the surface and didn’t tolerate fools – but whose soft heart shone through everything he did for his fellow guards. 

Dongmin was not a child now. Dreams were for the meek and they never came true anyway.

‘I merely ask of you to give him a chance,’ he said simply in the end. ‘The boy went hunting in the Crown woods because his father was dead and his mother and little sister were starving. A sentimental story? Yes, of course. One that could have been a lie? Perhaps. But I saw with my own eyes that he could barely stand on his feet from hunger and yet, he was as fast as me and a far better shot – and that is saying something.’

Commander Kim’s eyes turned away from the dancing snowflakes outside and were now watching him.

‘It could have bruised my ego, the encounter,’ Dongmin shrugged, seemingly indifferent. ‘But I saw the potential. I could use that dogged determination amongst my new guards. Also the gratitude. Grateful servants make for good servants.’

He put his wine down and looked the old man in the eye. ‘You will be picking the men for my new guard this spring.’

He skirted around the reason why he was getting one – his own wedding was something he didn’t think about unless he absolutely had to. 

‘Give him a chance, Commander; I think he could become a good guard. You can always throw him out if he proves unworthy during training.’

Commander Kim sighed, looking much older all of a sudden. ‘Are you sure, Your Highness, that this is not your way of rebelling against His Majesty, yet again?’

Dongmin reddened. ‘My father has nothing to do with this!’

For once, this was true. It had nothing to do with King Hwan, nothing to do with the contempt that was dripping from every word, every gesture, his father had ever directed towards him.

Dongmin used to rebel, in his own way. This, however, had nothing to do with his father. This had everything to do with the way Bin lips felt against his own in the stillness of the forest above Rivervale. It had everything to do with the fire in Dongmin’s gut when his hands touched Bin’s skin.

Tearing his mind away from the memories, he directed his gaze towards Commander Kim once again.

‘Please, consider him. I promise you, this has nothing to do with His Majesty. I simply need people in my guard that I will be able to rely upon. I have a feeling that this boy might become one of them. Please. I have not much say in the upcoming events but it would mean a lot to me if you could respect my wish.’

The old man’s eyes softened and Dongmin shrunk a little in his chair. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. The biggest upcoming event of the year – Dongmin’s wedding – was a political move and Dongmin, despite his Royal pedigree, was a mere pawn in King Hwan’s hands. His father knew that their country’s political relationship with the Southern Kingdom had been lukewarm for years and the union of their eldest daughter and Dongmin was supposed to strengthen the tentative alliance, with the future bride and groom having no say in the matter. In a game where stakes were as high as territories and borders, the feelings of Royal children were of little importance.

Dongmin could read sadness in the old man’s eyes and wished furiously he could be somewhere else. But if enduring Commander’s soft, pitying gaze meant he would accept Bin into his ranks, so be it. Dongmin could handle that.

‘As you wish, Your Highness,’ Commander Kim ran a weary hand over his face. ‘Write the letter and have it delivered. Have the boy come just before we leave for White City. No sooner; he can't commence his training while we are at High Castle and I’m refusing to add another hungry mouth to my men while we are here. This in not the capital, the food is scarce here during winter.’

Dongmin smiled. ‘I know that. Thank you.’

‘I am making no promises,’ Commander huffed into his cup and took a swig. ‘If the boy is useless, he will be back ploughing fields before he knows it.’

‘I understand that, Commander. You will give him a chance; the rest will be up to him.’

Dongmin smiled one more time, inclining his head slightly. ‘Thank you once again, Commander.’

‘Your Highness.’

Commander Kim recognised his dismissal, got up from his chair and bowed a little stiffly. ‘Should there be anything else I could do for you, Your Highness-‘

‘I know,’ interrupted Dongmin hastily. ‘I shall come to you if I need anything.’

‘Very well, Your Highness.’

Once alone again, Dongmin looked out of the window, into the darkness that has settled over the countryside.

Somewhere out there was Bin, doing whatever poor people did on a winter evening, chopping wood or mending tools or maybe just sitting by the fire and staring into the flames.

Bin, whose fate had been decided.

…………………………….

The morning was crisp, sunlight filtering down through the branches of tall spruces and firs above their heads.

Dongmin patted his mare’s neck, feeling the heat through the leather glove. The adrenaline after a hunt was slowly ebbing away, leaving behind a pleasant tiredness. 

‘You did well, Your Highness,’ Jinwoo adjusted the bow on his back and mounted his horse. His grin was warm, genuine, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes. ‘Nothing like anger to sharpen one’s aim.’

‘Shut your mouth, Earl of Ashfield,’ Dongmin grinned and cast his eyes over his shoulder, where Hoseok gave him a short nod, signalling they were ready. The body of a young buck was strapped to Hoseok’s horse, Dongmin’s arrow with its blue feathers still stuck in the poor beast’s eye.

Despite Dongmin addressing him with his full title, an unmistakable sign that his hackles were rising, Jinwoo chuckled. ‘I am simply saying that this might perhaps mollify His Majesty, your father, into talking to you again.’

‘I am not holding my breath,’ huffed Dongmin, even if it had been exactly what he was hoping for. Jinwoo knew him like the back of his hand. ‘It has been a week and he has not spoken to me at all, as if I didn’t exist. Thank God the Yuletide is over and we will be returning to White City soon. No more feasts where I need to pretend having a jolly time while I feel like killing someone.’

‘I am sure that once we are back in the capital, His Majesty will come around,’ Jinwoo remarked calmly, clicking his tongue to get his horse going. ‘In the meantime, try to stay out of his sight. And next time, don’t behave like a stroppy child when you two are talking.’

Dongmin frowned and followed suit. He swallowed down an angry retort, stopping himself from saying something sharp, something unkind. Jinwoo was his oldest friend – his only friend right now it seemed – and there was no need to hurt him just because he was angry. 

He gripped the reins a little tighter. ‘It’s easy for you to say, Jinwoo. You are not getting married without having any say in it.’

Jinwoo didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Forgive me for saying, Your Highness, but I still don’t understand. You have been betrothed for almost two summers, surely that’s old news. What happened with your father that upset you so?’

Dongmin swallows hard. ‘He has set the date for my wedding.’

‘Oh. When is it?’

‘Last Sunday of the Month of Cherry Blossoms.’

Jinwoo stayed silent after that, as if sensing that no words of his would offer comfort at this point. He quietly steered his horse up a narrow path, towards the road that would lead them back to High Castle. The dense forests around the fortress were abundant with deer and wild boar and the court stayed at High Castle for several weeks every year, during hunting season and Yuletide.

Dongmin always loved spending time in the North, away from the stifling court etiquette back home in White City, where every hour of his time was accounted for, filled with history lessons, sparring practice and endless hours of Council meetings where he had a seat as the Crown Prince, despite his father not being truly interested in what he had to say in any matter, political or military. 

Right now, however, Dongmin longed to be back home. Having his every day packed with duties, he could lose himself in the endless corridors of the Citadel, the Royal palace, always on the go, always busy. It would be easier to avoid the King and his stony silence after their argument.

Three more days and they will be heading back. The thought did bring him some comfort.

Dongmin patted Moonlight again, letting her trot after Jinwoo, only occasionally looking back to see if Hoseok and Sanha were following. Every time, Hoseok gave him a reassuring smile, despite the fact that he had to go on foot, legs sinking into the deep snow. Sanha was bringing up the rear, cheeks red in the freezing air, his big childlike eyes darting shyly away every time Dongmin looked at him. 

Once on the road, Dongmin caught up with Jinwoo, eyes trained stubbornly ahead. The silhouette of High Castle loomed in the distance like a stoic warrior, towering high above the narrow valley. Dark forests, unmoving and dusted with snow, sloped down sharply on both sides of the road, as if trying to cage them in. The river winding along the road was silent now, the water covered in thick, cracked ice.

It was barely past midday and the sun was still high, yet deep down in the valley, the shadows were already lengthening. Dongmin craned his neck, checking for snow clouds on the horizon behind them. There were none and he felt relieved. In the morning, they had taken a shortcut through the woods but now, with the buck, it was not an option. He eyed the track ahead of them. It was clearly used by locals from nearby villages and travellers heading south, its surface uneven ridges of frozen mud, rather than a deep blanket of snow they would sink into had they chosen the trail through the forest. 

This was good. With the detour, the journey back would still be two hours at least – but all in all it was better than breaking his horse’s legs in the deep snow. Jinwoo had teased him about it when they were discussing how to get back, saying he was too cautious, but Dongmin had dug his heels. They would take the long road.

Now, after surveying the dark silhouette of High Castle ahead, Dongmin squared his shoulders and stopped his horse. He could drag this out, he could pretend that this was only to spare his beautiful mare the awful treck through the deep snow, but there was no point lying to himself. They had to return to the castle, whether he wanted it or not.

He turned and gave the guards a sign to stop. Hoseok followed his order immediately, years of training apparent in every one of his efficient moves, Sanha following a split of a second later.

‘Sanha.’

‘Your Highness?’

‘The road is better now; your horse can carry you both. We will be faster that way.’

He could see Hoseok opening his mouth in protest but he raised his hand swiftly, silencing him. ‘I know, I know – you can't protect me like that and so on. But nobody is going to harm me here, look around. And I am not the King.’

The vague idea of an assassin ending his life in this freezing middle of nowhere was not entirely unpleasant. 

Hoseok swallowed visibly, forgoing any words of protests he had at the ready. 

Despite being an old friend of Dongmin’s, the moment Hoseok had ceased being the second son of the Duke of New Castle to become a member of the Royal Guard, his demeanour had changed. At first, Dongmin felt hurt by the newfound formality but once, maybe a year into being a guard, Hoseok pulled him aside.

_ ‘You know this is not about me not being your friend anymore, Dongmin, right?’ _

_ To hear his own name from Hoseok’s lips stung and felt good at the same time. _

_ ‘How is it not?’ he wrenched his arm out of Hoseok’s grip. ‘You look at me as if I were a stranger.’ _

_ Hoseok’s face fell a little. ‘I can't be laughing with you when I am on duty. I need to be focused. My orders are to protect your father, the King. And one day, hopefully, to protect you. You know I didn’t join the guard because of your father? I joined so I could protect you.’ _

Watching his friend’s earnest face now, Dongmin no longer felt the old sting of abandonment. He threw Hoseok a sharp smile. ‘Do not worry. Once you are  _ my _ guard, I will not let you slack like this so enjoy it while it lasts.’

Hoseok reddened. ‘Thank you, Your Highness.’

He spun on his heel and busied himself with checking whether the buck was strapped to his mare nice and tight, before hauling himself into the saddle behind Sanha.

Jinwoo watched the exchange with his usual air of placidity, waiting until they all set off again, only then turning to Dongmin with a questioning tilt of his head.

‘Did I hear it right? Have you just offered Hoseok a place in your guard?’

Dongmin huffed. ‘I don’t have a guard yet and even when it will be formed before my wedding, it will not be my place to choose the members.’

‘Oh, stop with the self pity,’ Jinwoo threw him sideways glance. ‘You know that Commander Kim will listen to you; you will be able to pick, if not all, then most of the members yourself. He will merely present the list in front of your father as his own choices.’

‘I don’t care,’ Dongmin felt the sudden surge of anger swell in him. ‘I don’t care about the damn guard and I don’t care about my damn wedding - but if I must, I will make damn sure that there will be some of my friends in  _ my  _ guard, not just my father’s spies.’

Jinwoo didn’t say a word after that. His best friend knew that Dongmin’s temper had a short fuse but it burned out quickly so he wisely held his tongue. They carried on in silence, trotting alongside the river, hooves of the horses loud on the frozen mud.

When the silent forests gave way to a wide, open plane in front of them, Dongmin felt a twinge of excitement. Even so close to High Castle, so close to the stifling atmosphere that awaited him there, he loved the view in front of him.

‘Maarfield,’ Jinwoo announced and Dongmin smiled because he knew his friend felt the same.

With no trees to cast long shadows, the valley was flooded with pale sunlight, the snow-covered countryside shining a brilliant white. The Dark Mountains on the right were still looming high and imposing above the small village of Maarfield nestled below, but the little cottages were looking cheerful and neat, thin ribbons of smoke rising out of the chimneys. Behind the village, a little lake – the Maar - was surrounded by tall poplars. Dongmin was told that on a sunny day in summer the lake looked as if a piece of the skies fell into it, so brilliant was the blue, but he supposed he would never know. 

‘What a shame we never come here in the summer,’ he sighed wistfully. 

‘I’ve heard that summers in the Northern Province are rather harsh, Your Highness, never warm enough. Maybe His Majesty, your father, is quite sensible to only come here for the hunting season and Yuletide, and spend the summer months in Saltport. I rather bathe in the sea than in a freezing lake.’

Dongmin snorted. Jinwoo knew him well. 

‘I didn’t say I wanted to have a swim in  _ that  _ lake,’ he jerked his head towards the village. ‘Only saying that it would be-‘

He stopped short.

Perched on a little hillock in the middle of the village, a small church stood, whitewashed and slim. Its bells started ringing, the sound carrying loud and clear through the crystal-clear air, the sound triumphant somehow, full of joy.

Dongmin stopped the horse and listened.

It was not the sound of bells calling villagers for the midday prayer; neither the slow mournful toll for a soul having left this life, nor was it the sound of bells ringing as alarm because of fire or flood.

‘Look, Your Highness,’ Jinwoo stooped next to him. ‘It’s a wedding.’

From their vantage point, they had a good view of the west wall of the church, with its main door now swinging open and the wedding party bursting out. Men in long winter capes piled out, their hats decorated with little sprigs of mistletoe, the green and white the traditional colours for weddings. Women dressed in short jackets lined with fur, their long colourful skirts sweeping the snow, lined up on both sides of the door, holding little baskets. They would be throwing handfuls of barley at the newlywed couple, to wish them prosperity.

Dongmin held the reins and watched. He could sense the excitement in the air, even from the distance, the happiness.

On a sudden impulse, he turned back and waved at Hoseok and Sanha. ‘You go ahead.’

‘But – Your Highness-‘

This time, Hoseok didn’t hide the unease. ‘I am not supposed to leave your side.’

Dongmin rolled his eyes. ‘Jinwoo will be with me; I just want to watch for a bit. You go ahead; we will catch up in no time. Go.’

Hoseok’s jaw clenched but he said nothing more. Sanha watched Dongmin for a heartbeat, eyes wide, visibly unsure what to do. 

Dongmin smiled at the nervous boy. ‘Go.’

Sanha nodded, his legs giving the horse a gentle squeeze. The animal reacted immediately and they trotted ahead, leaving Jinwoo and Dongmin behind.

‘The boy is a very good rider,’ remarked Dongmin. ‘I've been watching him for quite a while now. How come I have not seen him before?’

‘He is still in training, Your Highness, not a guard yet,’ Jinwoo shrugged. ‘Our stay at High Castle is his first time outside of the training compound.’

‘Well, he looks rather shy but if he is here Commander Kim must be hopeful.’

Dongmin made a mental note to ask the Commander about Sanha, then turned to Jinwoo. ‘Let us watch for a bit. It has been a while since I've seen a wedding that is-‘

He didn’t finish the sentence but Jinwoo could read between the lines. 

A wedding that was not arranged. A wedding where the newlyweds looked happy.

‘I know, Your Highness.’

Jinwoo had seen a fair share of weddings of royalty and noble blood. After the death of his father, Duke of Ashfield, the winter before last, he had inherited the title and vast swathes of lands near White City. As the head of House of Park, remotely related to the Royal family, it was his obligation to make an appearance at court, whether as the newly appointed member of the Council, in his father’s stead, or as Dongmin’s oldest friend at every ball, banquet or a wedding that took place in the Citadel, the residence of the Royal family.

Jinwoo knew everything about love and happiness not playing any role in any of the marriages amongst the rich and noble. 

Dongmin sighed. ‘Shall we watch for a bit then? Not too long, just a bit.’

Jinwoo didn’t answer, merely nodded. They both took a turn onto a narrow track going off the main road, heading for the village.

The row of cottages along the track, the dark wood of their walls contrasting with window frames and shutters painted in bright colour, cheered up Dongmin for some reason. Everything looked scrubbed clean, pristine in the white snow, no laundry hanging on the wooden fences, front yards swept and doorways decorated with garlands of holly and mistletoe. The street was empty, the whole village clearly in the church, taking part in the celebrations.

They couldn’t see the church now, the bending road obscuring the view, but they could hear the wedding party approaching from some distance. 

Voices, singing, music.

When they round the bend, Dongmin could help but hold his breath.

The wedding procession was long; it indeed seemed that the entire village was present. Men, women and children walked in a long line behind a cart pulled by two horses where the happy couple sat. The groom was in his best cape, its thick wool decorated in rich embroidery around the neck and the hem. The cluster of mistletoe on his hat was tied artfully with a red ribbon. He was watching the woman sitting next to him with a smile that rivalled the midday sun in the sky.

The bride sat huddled in a white fur jacket, her long green skirt pooling in rich folds around her. The flower crown on her head stood out in sharp contrast to her dark hair - ivy, mistletoe and delicate snow drops weaved into a wreath, held together with long white, green and red ribbons that streamed down her back and flapped gently in the breeze. 

White for innocence, red for fertility, green for the gift of new beginning, new life. 

‘Your Highness.’

Jinwoo’s voice broke him out of his daydream.

Dongmin blinked a couple of times, suddenly aware that the cart ground to a halt some distance in front of them, the groom clutching the reins nervously. People stopped walking, the fiddlers stopped playing the cheerful tune. A faint murmur rippled through the crowd, less joyous now, more cautious.

‘Your Highness,’ Jinwoo leaned closer. ‘Now that they saw us, perhaps you could talk to them. The small folk get twitchy when they see Royals suddenly appearing in the middle of their road.’ 

Dongmin could feel the gentle teasing in Jinwoo’s voice, the subtle way of trying to keep the situation light, but he also knew that Jinwoo had a point. Now that he was here, it was his duty to represent the Crown in front of these simple people, no matter how random the encounter 

‘Come on, Your Highness,’ Jinwoo coaxed him gently. ‘The Crown Prince can't be just standing here, staring. Time to say some words, seeing that we got ourselves into this situation.’ 

‘But how would they even know who I am?’ Dongmin asked but the answer dawned on him before Jinwoo even opened his mouth.

The blue of his cloak gave him away – darker than peacock blue that was the last fancy amongst the noble ladies of the court, but not quite the blue of the midnight sky – a dark, rich shade that only the members of the Royal family were allowed to wear. 

‘Fine,’ he squared his shoulders, casting Jinwoo an unsure look. ‘I shall talk to them.’

With hindsight, dismounting his horse was a mistake. When the bride and groom saw him and Jinwoo approaching the cart on foot, they panicked. The man jumped off and tried as best as he could to help his new wife to get off the cart. The woman’s face flushed as he slid his hands under her jacket, grabbing her by the waist, and lifted her off the seat.

Once safely on the ground, the bride smoothed her skirts with shaking hands and her husband took off his hat. They both bowed low and Dongmin’s heart clenched at the sight of their faces, tight with unease.

What was he doing here, ruining their big day, making them scared? 

‘Rise,’ he made sure his voice was soft. 

‘Your Highness,’ the man straightened up but kept his gaze trained on the ground.

Dongmin smiled. ‘I see it is your wedding day.’

‘Yes, it is, Your Highness,’ the man’s voice was quiet and he didn’t lift his eyes. 

The bride’s eyes flickered to meet Dongmin’s for a moment. Up close, she looked much younger, the last vestiges of childhood still showing in the roundness of her cheeks. Dongmin did his best to keep smiling. 

‘I have heard the bells ringing,’ he explained, suddenly unsure what he was doing here. ‘I - I merely wanted to wish you well.’

The groom looked up; relief clearly written all over his face. He bowed again. 

‘We are very grateful, Your Highness.’

On impulse, Dongmin turned back, where Jinwoo was hovering behind him. 

‘Do you have any silver on you?’ he asked in a low voice.

Jinwoo reached under his cloak with a resigned sigh and handed him a small leather pouch. Its weight in his gloved hand told Dongmin that it was not all of Jinwoo’s money, merely an amount to be kept on his person for emergencies, and that he most likely had another, much fancier one, with a lot more in it.

Jinwoo, always prepared. Dongmin used to make fun of his friend for being the sensible one but today, he was grateful for Jinwoo’s pragmatic nature.

He gave Jinwoo a quick grin and turned to the newlyweds. 

‘Here,’ he gently placed the pouch into the man’s hands. ‘A gift from me, on your big day.‘ 

Man’s eyes widened in awe. He sank to his knees, his fingers gripping the soft leather of the purse.’ Your Highness-‘

Dongmin felt a little relieved. He had no idea how much or how little money was an appropriate gift for a peasant on his wedding day, but judging by the man’s stunned expression, it was more than enough.

‘God bless you, Your Highness.’

The bride’s voice was soft. She smiled at Dongmin, her face brightening like the sky on a summer day. One of her hands subconsciously went down to cradle her stomach and Dongmin realised with shock that, under the thick folds of her dress, her belly was round with child.

He reddened. ‘Well, I – I shall be on my way.’

Carefully avoiding looking at her stomach, Dongmin kept his eyes trained at the bride’s face. ‘May God bless you with-‘

He stopped himself mid-sentence. He couldn’t finish what he had wanted to say; it would be considered rude to let on that he had noticed her condition.

Hastily acknowledging the couple’s thanks, he raised his hand in a quick wave and turned away, heading back towards his horse 

‘Let’s go,’ he murmured to Jinwoo, hauling himself into the saddle. ‘We need to catch up with Hoseok. The time is growing late.’

Over his shoulder, Dongmin cast the last glance at the wedding party. To his immense relief, the bride and groom were not staring in his direction anymore. They were hugging and gazing into each other’s eyes with so much adoration that it made him look away instantly. Surely one didn’t have to look  _ that  _ much in love in public.

‘Well, I think that was your one charitable deed per day, Your Highness,’ Jinwoo remarked dryly. ‘As long as you remember it was my silver you gifted to those lucky sods.’

‘It is not my fault that my father thinks I don’t need any money,’ muttered Dongmin darkly but his then his face brightened. ‘Do not worry yourself, my friend. Write it off from the amount you owe me from last night.’ 

‘I thought you were too drunk to remember,’ Jinwoo grumbled. 

Dongmin grinned,’ I am never too drunk to remember how much money I win. Besides, you know what they say - no luck in love, luckier in vice. Not my fault that you can't play cards.’

‘Can't say I understand how you were able to drink everyone under the table  _ and _ win so much money last night,’ Jinwoo shook his head, looking a little appalled.

‘I’ve told you,’ Dongmin couldn’t help but shrug. ‘No luck in love-’

‘Oh, I beg you, stop it, Your Highness,’ Jinwoo flashed him an annoyed look. ‘You are pretty lucky to be betrothed to Princess Maya. She is beautiful. And they say she has a lovely nature, sweet and agreeable. Your father couldn’t have chosen better for you.’ 

The light mood evaporated in an instant. Dongmin gripped his reins so hard, he thought he would tear them with his bare hands. 

‘I am aware that my future wife is lovely in every respect. But that’s not what angers me; you know that. I had no say in the matter, none at all. Can't you see that, Jinwoo?’ 

‘I think you are making much ado about nothing, Your Highness, if you forgive me for being so bold,’ Jinwoo said dryly. ‘Surely you didn’t expect to marry for love; that’s not how things work, especially not with you, seeing that you’re the Crown Prince. You must know that.’ 

Dongmin bit his lips to stop himself from screaming. Of course he knew. Jinwoo was right, nobility and royals married for money, political influence and, at a push, peace; he had no right to be upset about it, that’s how things stood indeed. 

He knew there was more to his anger though, a lot more than mere resentment at his father for choosing a bride for him without consultation, more than the dread he felt when counting days to his wedding with a girl he barely knew and only met once.

Dongmin bit his lip and said nothing. For a split of a second, he entertained the idea of just telling Jinwoo everything – I’m in love with a penniless peasant boy whom I met six weeks ago and he is coming to join the Guard the day after tomorrow – but he stopped himself.

For it was a sin, an act against God, for two men to lie together, punishable by death in their kingdom. Despite him and Bin barely having exchanged a handful of kisses during their one and only encounter, Dongmin felt sick with fear. He knew he was playing with fire; even telling his best friend was too dangerous. 

‘My apologies, Jinwoo,’ he finally managed to find his voice. ‘I know how it works; I know I should be counting my blessings as brides go.’

‘You should,’ his friend grinned at him. ‘So stop moaning now and let us hurry. Hoseok and Sanha are way ahead.’

Dongmin nodded. He kicked his heels and Moonlight broke into a gallop, leaving Jinwoo behind. As he picked up speed, Dongmin focused on the chilly wind on his face, the sound of hooves on the hardened mud, and made his mind go blank. 

_ Everything will be fine. _

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just to warn you, folks - binu getting drunk and making out in this chapter. All consentual etc, despite the alcohol, but I thought I would give you the heads-up, just in case :-)
> 
> Have fun!

**Year 57 of the House of Lee. The Month of Ice - continued**

He woke up to the sound of a chambermaid bringing hot water to his room. Avoiding an awkward conversation while she pottered around, he stayed burrowed under the heavy covers, pretending to be asleep. He was in no mood for small talk.

After the girl left, quietly closing the door behind her, Dongmin waited for a moment until he opened his eyes.

The sun was streaming in through the narrow windows, leaving the chamber bathed in warm light, even if it did nothing for the chillingly cold air that greeted him when he stuck his nose out from underneath a tangle of blankets.

The fire was lit in the massive hearth but the warmth didn’t quite reach his bed across the room. Shivering a little, he leapt out of bed, quickly splashed his face – the water already turning tepid in the basin – and threw on clothes that had been left out ready for him on a chair near the fire.

He felt excited, twitchy. Tomorrow the court would leave High Castle, starting a three-day long journey back to White City. Maybe he should start packing his belongings. The maids would do everything, of course, but he liked to pack the books himself. 

He kneeled by a small trunk next to his bed and opened it. The books were neatly stacked inside, each of the leather covers wrapped carefully in a layer of cloth. Dongmin ran his fingertips over the rough linen fabric protecting his most valued possessions. He loved reading, even if hardly anyone in the Royal family quite understood his passion. His mother was disappointed that he didn’t like immersing himself in religious treatises and his father was only interested in the history of their own kingdom, appalled that his eldest son would devour pages upon pages about heathens living in lands that perhaps didn’t even exist and read about discoveries made by foreign alchemists who worshipped other gods.

Dongmin stroked his treasures for a while, checking whether they were wrapped up properly, then rose to pick up a couple of stray volumes left in the room that he had been reading while at High Castle.

One was left on the window seat; his latest acquisition, a travel book written by a southern explorer who traversed the Great Sea in the west and landed in a faraway land, inhabited by people who spoke languages no one had ever heard before, who dressed differently and never heard of God. 

Dongmin’s fingers stroked the worn hide. An hour spent reading sounded tempting; maybe he could stay in his room and lose himself in a different world for a bit. No point trying to go down to the Great Hall; he was fairly sure his mother and father had finished breakfast by now and even if they didn’t, Dongmin knew there would be no small talk to be had at the long wooden table. The buck he had brought in two days ago did nothing to soften his father’s stony silence after their argument.

A knock on the door interrupted his musing.

‘Come in!’

A young maid peered in. ‘Good morning, Your Highness. I came to take the water away, if Your Highness has no need for it anymore?’

He waved her in. ‘Sure, go ahead.’

She slipped into the room, her movements brisk and efficient. Dongmin was watching her, itching to be alone. He didn’t feel like leaving the room today at all.

‘I would like my breakfast brought up here.’

The girl lifted her head a little surprised, then bowed quickly, the basin already in her hands. ‘As you wish, Your Highness.’

Once alone again, Dongmin settled into the deep window seat and peered through the panes at the courtyard below. 

Despite being only mid-morning, the main gates were open, people bustling around like busy ants. The preparations to get the whole court ready to leave the next morning were well underway.

Dongmin watched the proceedings below, chest tightening with nerves. 

_ Bin is coming today.  _

In his letter, he had instructed Bin to arrive early, ostensibly to get acquainted with the Royal Guard, but Dongmin knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself. If Bin came in the morning, it left Dongmin with the whole day of having a chance to talk to him.

He settled in the corner of the deep bay window and watched. The book on his lap was soon forgotten, food that the maid had brought up for him left untouched. When the rumbling in his stomach got too loud, he went to inspect the breakfast tray on the table, only to hurriedly tear off a hunk of bread and return to his seat.

The time passed, the sun in the sky rising higher, spilling its golden rays over the thick layer of show on the rooftops of the chapel and the garrison of the Lower Tower.

After turning a couple of pages of his book without remembering a single word, Dongmin gave up the pretence of reading. He brought the breakfast tray to the window seat and dragged one of the heavy woollen blankets off the bed. Wrapping himself in its thick folds, he settled back onto the worn velvet cushion, the main gates clearly visible.

People were coming and going, the courtyard never growing quiet. Dongmin watched a merchant coming through the gates, his cart full with barrels and sacks that the sentry at the gates inspected before the man was let through the gates.

Dongmin recognised several stable grooms running back and forth, no doubt preparing everything for the court’s departure the next morning.

Despite amusing himself by observing everything that was going on, Dongmin was growing impatient.

Why was Bin not coming? Had he been delayed, held up by some events he had no control over? Had something happened to him? 

The idea that he might not be coming at all made him break out into cold sweat.

There.

Just as he was about to succumb to panic, Dongmin spotted a familiar figure through the wide-open gates.

It was him.

With bated breath, Dongmin watched Bin approaching the castle guards. Despite not being able to hear the conversation, Dongmin saw how Bin pulled a letter from under his cloak and handed it over to one of the guards who inspected it carefully. After sizing Bin up one more time, the soldier waved him through, even if his face betrayed what he thought of the idea of a boy in a threadbare cloak and worn boots wanting to meet Commander Kim.

Dongmin’s lips twitched at the man’s sullen look. It was clear the man was itching to scold a simple peasant from God-knows-where and send him on his way; however, he was only a soldier, having no say in the matters of the Royal Guard that was currently stationed all over the place, probably annoying the locals after almost two months of the court being at High Castle.

Giving Bin one last morose look, he motioned him to keep going and Bin walked through the gates.

Dongmin’s throat went dry.

He had been afraid that he might not recognise Bin again, that somehow Bin might look different in the unforgiving daylight, in the harsh reality – different from the magic in Rivervale where they had met before.

But Bin’s tall frame seemed the same, now made somehow more imposing by the long cloak; he had the same sharp cheekbones and a shy look on his face.

Dongmin had to grip at the blanket that was covering his knees to restrain himself from running downstairs. He had no place to do so; on the surface of things, he had nothing to do with Bin joining Commander Kim’s ranks and it would be unwise to show that he knew Bin at all.

He dug his nails into the woollen fabric and waited for his breathing to even out.

Bin was here; that was all that mattered. He would find a way to speak to him later.

**  
.......................................**

The dinner was dragging.

Dongmin chewed on his roast venison; even in his foul mood he acknowledged it was exquisite, served with cranberries and fresh bread that could rival the best cakes in White City. 

He tried his best to keep his expression agreeable. Both his parents were engaged in conversation with the Steward and his wife, and Dongmin was glad of that; it would be nice if their last night at High Castle were an amiable one. Their host was a pleasant man, his friendship with the King borne out of shared memories from the battlefield, rather than a need to please the monarch; when the two of them met they liked to reminisce about the olden days, the blood-tinged times of war having acquired a rosy patina after many years, a soft glow that comes with time, with longing for the youth they had left behind.

Dongmin used to love old war stories, and between the two of them, King Hwan and the Steward had plenty. Tonight, Dongmin listened attentively, making all the right noises, making sure to be on his behaviour. The smoother the evening went, the sooner he would be able to leave without attracting too much unwanted attention.

Steward’s eldest daughter, sitting opposite him, smiled at him, clearly not interested in tales she had already heard many times before.

‘Are you excited about your wedding, Your Highness?’

Out of the corner of his eye, Dongmin could see his father stiffen but he managed a smile back. ‘Indeed I am, Lady Ava.’

‘I have heard that your bride is very beautiful.’

The ladies at the table all softened, their eyes turning dreamy. The Queen’s smile was a little strained but Dongmin shot her a reassuring look. He wouldn’t make a mistake of not behaving like the perfect son; it wasn’t worth it. He had things to do after dinner; he needed to get out of the Great Hall as quickly as possible.

‘I only met my betrothed once, Lady Ava, but all the songs about her beauty don’t do her justice. Princess Maya is indeed very beautiful.’

Ava sighed, her face doing that expression that almost everyone did when talking about the Royal wedding – soft and cooing and a little bit wistful.

‘May God bless you both with good health and many children, Your Highness.’

Next to him, Jinwoo chuckled. ‘Knowing His Highness, he will be teaching his sons horse riding before they can walk.’

Everyone laughed at that. Dongmin nudged Jinwoo in the ribs but was glad for the subtle diversion. The Steward made a loud promise to gift one of his prize stallions to Dongmin when his first son was born, and after that, the conversation took a pleasant turn, horses being the man’s biggest passion. The good mood lasted throughout the sweet course, pies filled with plum jam and walnuts sweetened with honey.

When all women rose from the table – his mother accepting the hostess invitation to her quarters to play games, Dongmin made his excuses too, murmuring vaguely that he wanted to check if his horse was taken care of and ready for the journey.

The Steward waved him off happily – when it came to horses he agreed to anything - and seemed quite glad to have the King and the rest of the male company to himself, together with several carafes of southern wine that the court had brought from White City, and a handful of stories from the olden days that one or two guests had not heard before.

Jinwoo rose with Dongmin, almost a shadow behind him, bowing politely, the words of thanks for the dinner smooth on his lips.

Once in the corridor, Dongmin smirked. ‘You seem to be in much haste to escape. What brought that on?’

Jinwoo’s face remained even but there was a glint in his eyes, a spark of mischief Dongmin knew well. ‘I think I might ask for permission to join the ladies for a round of games, Your Highness.’

‘Good grief,’ Dongmin groaned. ‘Which one?’

‘The eldest. Lady Ava.’

Dongmin laughed. ‘I think I’m dreaming, truly. Just before we came here, it was the youngest daughter of Earl of Aldminster. Have you forgotten her already?’

‘I am not forgetting anyone,’ Jinwoo said slowly, smiling a little. ‘There is no sin in talking to nice women and maybe getting a smile in return. Lady Ava is pretty, rather skilled at playing lute and it’s a crying shame that it is considered bad manners for women to play cards for money. She would make you a poor, penniless sod, Your Highness.’

That caught Dongmin’s interest. ‘Really?’

Jinwoo nodded with a pleased hum. ‘The etiquette in the North is less stiff than in the capital. Women play cards and sometimes even go hunting with men; I bet courting here is so much more fun than for us, having to sit in some ornate chamber and watch a girl doing embroidery while reading poetry to her.’

‘Or a biography of saints,’ snorted Dongmin.

‘Exactly my point,’ Jinwoo grinned back. ‘I think I might consider the North when I'm looking for my future wife, who knows. So if you excuse me, Your Highness, I shall now go and enjoy my last evening here.’

Dongmin waved his hand. ‘Go, make the most of it. And I expect hearing all about your adventures tomorrow.’

‘Your Highness,’ Jinwoo bowed, chuckling a little, and disappeared around the corner, in the direction of the women’s quarters.

Once alone, Dongmin headed for the stables in the Lower Tower. He didn’t lie when he said he wanted to check on Moonlight – but seeing his beloved horse was merely a ruse. He had other plans - one last, desperate attempt to make before the journey home tomorrow morning.

He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Bin for the whole day and it was now or never.

In the stables, he went for one of the younger brooms, a rather simple boy who wasn’t interested in anything but horses. Moonlight was always in pristine condition when the boy took care of her but Dongmin barely ever saw him exchange more than half a dozen words with anyone; he thought it was enough to hope that the boy was not prone to spreading gossip.

‘Go to the garrison,’ he instructed the boy. ‘Ask for Moon Bin, the new recruit of the Royal Guard. Bring him to the lower courtyard; I need to talk to him.’

The groom’s earnest face didn’t betray anything, no curiosity, no emotions.

‘Yes, Your Highness, as you wish your Highness,’ he nodded quickly. ‘Garrison, bring Moon Bin to the courtyard.’

‘Well, there’s a good lad,’ smiled Dongmin. ‘Run along.’

Once the boy disappeared outside, Dongmin hugged Moonlight, burying his face in her mane. He breathed in the familiar scent, tried desperately to calm down his wildly beating heart.

He was going to see Bin.

Counting in his head, he willed himself to wait. There was no point in lingering outside, having servants stopping to check on him – do you need anything, Your Highness – and attracting attention. He was a familiar figure in the Lower Tower, often chatting to stable grooms about Steward’s best breeds or smiling shyly at the giggling kitchen maids who walked past him in the courtyard. Dongmin liked that people didn’t seem to be afraid of him, that they didn’t drop their gaze to the floor and walk faster, the way they did when his father was near. Tonight, however, he didn’t need the attention. 

Tonight, he wanted to be invisible. 

After what he deemed a sufficient amount of time, he carefully stepped outside. 

While he was in the stables, the inky skies heavy above his head had grown heavier with thick clouds. It started snowing, stray snowflakes getting swept by the wind that was slowly picking up.

There were still enough people going back and forth, servants bending low under heavy pails of water drawn from the well, kitchen boys running the last errands of the day. Under the awning, near the gate to the garrison, a guard was leaning against the wall, whispering something to a pretty chambermaid standing next to him. The girl was wrapped up in a thick shawl, shivering a little, but judging by her smile, she was not too offended by his efforts.

Dongmin scanned the courtyard. It was dark but several torches were illuminating the space, casting long shadows over the cobblestones.

‘Your Highness.’

He spun around.

The stable boy emerged from under the staircase leading to the Keep. Behind him, half hidden in the shadows, stood Bin.

‘I did as you asked, Your Highness,’ the boy bowed and pointed towards Bin lingering behind him

‘Indeed you did.’

Dongmin reached into the little pouch hidden under his tunic and pulled a little cake filled with poppy seeds, one he had managed to squirrel away at dinner. ‘This is for you; you may go.’

The boy’s eyes widened. ‘Thank you, Your Highness.’

He snatched the cake, as if he thought Dongmin might change his mind, and disappeared swiftly towards the stables.

‘Your Highness.’ Bin bowed low. In the flickering light of the torches, Dongmin could see a couple of snowflakes that had settled in his hair; he had to fight the urge to brush them away.

‘Stand up.’

Bin obediently straightened up but kept his eyes cast down.

Dongmin had to bite his lip from saying Bin’s name out loud. ’ ‘How are you?’

Bin gulped, eyes still on the ground. ‘I am well, Your Highness.’

‘I trust your first day went well; is everyone treating you fairly?’

He hated how stiff he sounded but Bin didn’t seem to mind.

‘Everyone has been kind, Your Highness,’ Bin dared to look up; his smile made Dongmin’s knees buckle.

After they locked eyes, Dongmin found it was somehow impossible to look away. 

He watched, drinking in the sight of Bin’s face, the half-smile of his lips, the way his eyes rested at Dongmin, unmoving but warm.

‘Binnie,’ he whispered.

Bin’s face grew cautious. His eyes darted around and he gulped a little nervously. ‘Your Highness. Perhaps we shouldn’t-‘

Dongmin forced himself to calm his shaking hands. ‘You are right; not – not here.’

He thought frantically. There was no way they could stay in the courtyard for more than a couple of moments; sooner of later someone would wonder why Prince Dongmin, the heir to the throne, was in a deep conversation with a simple peasant boy, gazing all starstruck into his eyes.

Hastily, he made up his mind.

‘Come.’

Dongmin marched across the courtyard, Bin in tow, not looking at anyone.

He quickly grabbed one of the torches that were casting the light in the corner and ducked into a small, unlit archway. 

Barely looking whether Bin was following, he hurried further down a long dark corridor, its walls rough stone, wet and blackened with soot at the ceiling. 

Bin stumbled after him, not saying a word.

Once the sounds coming from the courtyard became muffled, he slowed down, allowing himself to look behind at Bin, who was running his fingers over the damp walls and eyed the low ceiling, the long dark corridor ahead.

The torch flickered, casting a soft glow on the uneven walls, at Bin’s face. 

‘Where are we?’ 

Dongmin pointed at the darkness ahead. ‘High Castle’s wine cellars.’

He reached for Bin’s hand – he hoped, he really hoped Bin would not pull away – and interlaced their fingers together. “Come.’

The tunnel gradually got wider, the ceiling higher. When the light of Dongmin’s torch cast its light on a sturdy oak door, Bin eyed the lock with suspicion. 

‘I bet it’s locked.’ 

Dongmin smiled. ‘We shall see.’

There was a little nook in the wall, high enough not to be spotted immediately but not too high for Dongmin not be able to reach it when he stretched up his arm.

Bin’s eyes widened as he pulled out a key. ‘How – How do you know-‘

‘One of the cooks wanted to show off last year,’ Dongmin snickered. ‘He told me where the spare key was being kept. I went to check and he told the truth. Didn’t know if it would still be here but - ’

The padlock screeched a little as he unlocked it. The door was sturdy but rather small and they both had to duck their heads as they entered.

Dongmin held the torch high. 

The room was wide and long, with a higher ceiling that one would have anticipated. Rows and rows of wooden barrels lined both walls, neatly stacked on trestles. There was a long wooden table at the far end of the room, now half-hidden in the shadows.

Dongmin clutched Bin’s hand a little tighter, as they walked all the way to the far end. He put the torch in one of the holders that dotted the length of the room.

‘Well-‘

Despite anticipating this moment for so long, he was at loss what to say.

Bin stood in front of him, a little smile on his face, waiting for Dongmin to speak first.

‘I'm – I'm so happy you are here.’

He felt stupid, clumsy, terrified that after six weeks of not seeing each other, Bin will somehow think less of him, or tell him that them kissing back in Rivervale had been a mistake, that he didn’t like Dongmin that way-

‘I am happy too.’ Bin fingers found his, their warmth welcome on the icy skin of Dongmin’s hand. ‘I've missed you, Your Highness.’

Dongmin half-laughed, half-sobbed with relief. He leaned back, against the edge of the table, fingers digging into the rough wood, grasping for support.

‘We can – We can just stay here for a while. Talk. Or will you get into trouble?’

Bin smiled softly. ‘No, Your Highness. Earlier, we were getting ready for tomorrow’s journey but all is done now and everyone is sitting around the fire, playing cards or-‘

‘Trying to sweet-talk some pretty chambermaid into kissing them goodbye,’ Dongmin finished for him.

‘Yes,’ laughed Bin and somehow, the tension broke after that. 

Dongmin hopped on the table and patted the spot next to him. ‘Come, sit.’

Bin joined him without hesitation and for a while they simply sat side by side, grinning happily, legs swinging.

‘How is your family, Binnie?’ 

‘They are alright, Your Highness,’ Bin ducked his head shyly. ‘I am most grateful for the money you have sent. My mother will be able to hire a field hand who will help them in my stead and they should be fine until the harvest. And then, God willing, once I become a guard, I start sending part of my allowance. I don’t need much myself.’ 

‘Don’t mention it,’ Dongmin lifted up his hand. ‘And don’t say a word to anyone about the money. I would get into trouble.’

‘Would you, Your Highness?’ Bin’s forehead creased in a frown. ‘I thought you fancy people always had as much money as you wanted to spend on whatever you pleased.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ Dongmin snapped a little sharply. ‘Not for the things I like. I can have everything under the sun - fine horses, the best swords and bows – but only things my father approves of. And no money. Apparently, I used to spend them on inappropriate things, unfit for a Crown Prince.’

Bin, sitting next to him, squirmed a little. ‘I am sorry, Your Highness. I never thought – Why did you send money to me then? I don’t want you to cross your father –‘

‘My father will hear nothing if you keep your mouth shut,’ Dongmin shrugged lightly. ‘I have my own way of getting my hands on silver.’

Bin laughed, a little shocked. ‘How, Your Highness, if I may be so bold to ask?’

Dongmin turned a little away. He wasn’t quite sure why he was embarrassed. It wasn’t because he liked playing cards and was good at it, not even the fact that he played for money, ruthlessly so, but the mortification of admitting that he wasn’t as free as everyone thought he was – that stung.

‘I play cards,’ in the end he didn’t beat around the bush. ‘I play with my friends and I win enough money to buy what I want without my father knowing.’

‘What do you buy, Your Highness?’

‘Books.’

‘Oh.’

Bin’s soft exhale was full of awe.

‘Can you read, Binnie?’

Dongmin saw a shadow of unease crossing Bin’s face and for a split of a second he had a half-mind to apologise for prying but, after a short hesitation, Bin smiled a little bitterly and nodded.

‘I can, Your Highness, my father taught me when I was younger. But the books I had - we – we sold them after my father got ill. I have nothing to read now.’

‘There are books in the compound, Binnie,’ Dongmin said softly, ‘quite a lot of them. My friend Hoseok always loved to read and that didn’t change even after he joined the Guard. I'm sure he will lend you some if you ask.’

‘Thank you, Your Highness. I spoke to Hoseok today; he seems kind.’

‘He is.’

For a while, they simply sat, smiling at each other. Dongmin’s fingers itched with the urge to run them through Bin’s hair. It was long and silky, half of it in a topknot, the rest falling down his back, with two thin braids framing his face. Dongmin was used to the fashion of the North, so free, so different from the capital where good manners dictated for both men and women to keep theirs neat and tied up, but this was different. Members of the Royal Guard always wore their hair short – to give an attacker nothing to grab on – and Dongmin knew Bin’s would be shorn off first thing after his feet crossed the threshold of the Royal Guard compound.

He gulped and grabbed the edge of the table instead, keeping his hands to himself. His eyes wandered to the corner of the room, where a dozen of leather pouches with the Royal seal were lined up on a little side table, their bulging bellies shiny, not covered in dust. There were a couple of earthenware tumblers on the shelf above.

A smile – not quite sweet, a little angry – crossed Dongmin’s face.

‘I think I want a drink.’

Bin gulped. Dongmin could see the hesitation on his face.

‘What? Can you not hold your drink, Binnie?’

Bin reddened. ‘I can, Your Highness, but – ‘

‘But what?’

‘Will we not get into trouble?’

Dongmin wasn’t quite sure how good Steward’s housekeeper was and whether everything in the cellars was accounted for, but found himself not caring.

‘Don’t worry, Binnie,’ he jumped off the table and headed straight for the pouches. He picked one and quickly broke the seal, before he could change his mind. He grabbed one tumbler from the shelf and returned to Bin, who was watching him a little wearily.

Dongmin climbed onto the table and swung one leg over, straddling it like a horse. He cocked his head at Bin and he copied him, face flushing a little, trying not to brush against him.

Dongmin poured a measure into the tumbler and handed it to Bin. ‘It’s the best wine there is, from the southern borders. Father would kill me if he knew I'm pilfering it. He had it brought with us especially for the Yuletide ball.’

Bin’s hesitated, hands mid-air. ‘When someone finds out –‘

‘No one will find out,’ Dongmin made himself smile with more confidence than he felt and thrust the tumbler into Bin’s hands. ‘Try it.’

Bin took a tentative sip. ‘It’s good,’ he smiled a little.

‘Only good?’ grinned Dongmin, putting the pouch down between them. He took the tumbler out of Bin’s hands and gulped down the rest. ‘Only good? That is an insult, Binnie.’

‘I know nothing about wine, Your Highness,’ Bin chuckled shyly. ‘Here in the North, there are no vineyards. We drink juniper brandy.’

Dongmin considered that. ‘Hmm. I’ve never tried that.’

‘I’ve seen some kegs up front.’

‘Then perhaps we should try that as well, what do you think?’

Bin didn’t make a move to go and get it. He stared at Dongmin, his face so close it made Dongmin feel dizzy.

‘I don’t think I want to drink right now, Your Highness,’ he whispered and shuffled closer, his knees pressing into Dongmin’s.

Dongmin’s cheeks burned. ‘What – What do you want to – to do?’

He had to put all his energy into not touching Bin’s face. He had promised. He had promised Bin that he would be a honourable man, that he would not ask for anything that Bin didn’t want to do, that he couldn’t give.

But how could he stay true to his promise when Bin was so close, watching him as if he were in a trance, so close that Dongmin could feel the heat radiating from his body?

The wine pouch was the only thing standing between them and Dongmin felt a wild urge to shove it away. ‘What – do you -?

Bin didn’t answer. Instead, he reached and took Dongmin’s face in his hands.

“You are so beautiful,’ he sighed and leaned forward.

Bin’s lips tasted like the wine they had drunk just a moment ago, sweet like dark grapes that ripened in the hills around Gaian See. Dongmin had seen the vineyards, rows and rows of them, the fruit heavy, ripened under the scorching sun, bursts of sweetness on his tongue when he was offered some by the local winemaker.

On Dongmin’s lips, Bin’s taste was headier, stronger, making Dongmin more drunk than any of the wine he had ever tasted.

When they couldn’t breathe anymore, they broke the kiss and the sight – Bin with dishevelled hair and swollen lips was almost too much for Dongmin to bear.

‘I-,’ Dongmin pressed a palm against Bin’s chest, pushing him gently away. ‘Do you remember when we met in Rivervale? Do you? You made me promise,’ he panted. ‘I have promised to be a good man.’

The look written on Bin’s face said he remembered everything - Bin almost crushing him into the bark of an old fir tree, his lips on Dongmin’s, the wind howling above their heads in the tall fir trees while they kissed as if their lives were about to end.

‘I do remember,’ Bin let out a shuddery breath. ‘I – We shouldn’t be doing this – forgive me, Your Highness, it’s my fault - but you are not yet wed – and I promise, I promise, that when we arrive in White City I will behave. I shall be the best guard ever.’

Gently, Bin pulled Dongmin’s hand off his chest. ‘I shall behave, Your Highness. When we get there.’

Dongmin’s resolve was crumbling with every second. He closed his eyes and breathed in Bin’s scent, something sweet and heady underneath the smell of leather, sweat, smoke and the faint smell of damp wool.

What was the point of resisting? They will probably never be alone again.

‘You’re right.’ Without opening his eyes, he blindly trailed his hands up Bin’s arms, felling the hard, lean muscles underneath the worn tunic. ‘We will behave tomorrow. But not tonight.’

‘You are not making this easy, Your Highness,’ groaned Bin and leaned closer. His lips grazed Dongmin’s ear and Dongmin jumped as if he got burned.

‘You are supposed to convince me otherwise,’ Bin whispered. ‘Please tell me to stop because I – I can't do it – I can't stop myself and-‘

Dongmin pulled back a little, forced himself to open his eyes, to think clearly. ‘I know,’ he gasped. ‘I should, shouldn’t I? But we are heading back to White City tomorrow and then you will start your training and you will stay in the compound and - and I shan’t see you again, maybe not until my wedding day.’

Bin watched him, a little crease between his brows. The silence between them grew thicker, almost unbearable.

‘But you are right,’ Dongmin balled his hands into fists. ‘Maybe we should just – talk.’

The abandoned wine pouch was sitting on the table between them and he reached for it and took a gulp, not bothering whether he looked like the last drunkard or not.

The full, heady scent hit his nose and he drank in long, greedy gulps. He passed the pouch to Bin, ‘Here, have some.’

This time, Bin drank without a question and after he finished, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and smiled. ‘You are right, it’s good. You are spoiling me, Your Highness,’ he chuckled. ‘I shouldn’t be getting used to this.’

Dongmin smiled back. ‘You will get used to good wine. Everyone in White City drinks wine – although I don’t know how much you will be allowed during training; I have no idea of such things.’

Bin passed him the pouch without a word, let him have another swig. Dongmin could feel the wine hitting him and it scared him a little – because, with his head swimming, he saw that Bin looked even more beautiful, like a dark-haired angel sitting within reach, and wouldn’t that be a crying shame if he let him leave without touching that hair and kissing those lips again.

He leaned forward, pressed his head into Bin’s shoulder and closed his eyes. ‘I am such a fool, Binnie.’

‘Why?’ 

Dongmin couldn’t see it but the feel of Bin’s lips touching his hair made his stomach flip.

‘You are here, Binnie,’ he started giggling. ‘Why, in the Lord’s name, would I sit here and only talk? What’s wrong with me? Why do I always have to be a good boy? Why do I always need to behave? Can you tell me, Binnie?’

Bin didn’t answer so Dongmin tried stifling his laugh in his tunic and stayed like that, face buried in the rough cloth.

‘Your Highness?’

Bin wrapped his arms around Dongmin’s shoulders and pulled him closer. There was something in his voice that made Dongmin look up.

Slowly, deliberately, Bin took the pouch and set it behind him on the table. Dongmin stared at the emptiness between them where the wine had been only a moment before and knew the change marked something, something that was coming, like a tide.

‘What do you want to do, Your Highness?’ Bin moved closer, gently lifting his chin. Dongmin could feel his fingers shaking. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want to kiss you again.’

It was like a river bursting through a damn.

There was no softness in their kisses afterwards, no sweet or lingering touches of their fingers; it felt desperate, wild, like drawing last, panicky breaths before being pulled underwater by a deadly rip.

Bin’s teeth scraped at his neck and his fingers shook as he started unfastening Dongmin’s tunic. When his hands finally found their way under Dongmin’s shirt; Dongmin buried his hands in Bin’s hair, twisting them in the long strands.

‘You smell so good,’ Bin panted against his throat, hands tracing the ridges of Dongmin’s ribs. Dongmin felt the calloused skin of his hands catching on his skin. ‘You smell like heaven.’

Dongmin’s inside jolted. This was everything that was forbidden - listening to Bin saying words like that, feeling his mouth on his, sliding his fingers under the collar of Bin’s tunic, desperately wanting to feel his skin – but Dongmin never felt more alive.

‘I want to – I want –‘

‘What do you want, Your Highness?’ Bin’s hands slipped from under Dongmin’s shirt and started peeling the tunic off Dongmin’s shoulders.

Thinking was difficult. Dongmin shuddered when the cold air hit his skin through only the thin fabric of his shirt. ‘I don’t – I don’t know, I want – everything.’

Bin laughed softly and pulled Dongmin’s shirt over his head. ‘I will do whatever you want.’

Dongmin wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. There was hunger in Bin’s gaze, something primal in the way he watched Dongmin, eyes unwavering and sliding without shame over his body.

‘You are so beautiful.’

‘But so are you,’ Dongmin gulped. ‘Shame that I can't see it.’

He felt daring for the teasing words.

Bin’s eyes creased; it made Dongmin want to die right there and then so that the last thing he would see would be Bin’s smile.

‘Well, I have told you, Your Highness,’ he cocked his head with a grin, ‘that I would do everything you want.’

‘Take off your clothes then.’

Bin tensed. Hearing the bluntness in his own words, Dongmin’s face burned in shame.

‘Forgive me,’ he whispered. ‘I – I didn’t mean it like that - I just want to touch your skin but if you don’t want-‘

Bin’s face softened. ‘That’s alright,’ he reached for Dongmin’s hand. ‘I did tell you I would do anything you want.’

With a smile that was not quite innocent, he pulled his tunic over his head.

Dongmin liked beautiful things; he knew to appreciate sweet tunes his mother liked playing on her lute, his eyes would linger on the exquisite paintings that hung in the Great Gallery in the Citadel; sometimes, he would even stop his horse during a hunt when seeing a striking sunrise, all pink and orange and making the horizon glow like the most precious jewels in his father’s crown.

But Bin was the most beautiful of them all.

Dongmin’s eyes slid over Bin’s arms, his shoulders, the smooth skin of Bin’s chest glowing in the torchlight. He felt frozen, under Bin’s spell, as if the sight of his beauty rendered him completely powerless.

But when Bin untied the string on his breeches, Dongmin jolted forward.

‘No! Don’t!’

Bin stopped. ‘Why?’ he asked softly. ‘Do you think this a sin, Your Highness?’

Dongmin stared at Bin’s stomach, at the thin dark trail that sneaked down from Bin’s navel, at the way Bin was unmistakably hard under his breaches.

‘I- I don’t know,’ he wrapped his arms tighter around him. ‘You? What do you think?’

Bin laughed and fell backwards onto the table. ‘I don’t think God cares either way, Your Highness. If He did care he wouldn’t let people die of hunger every winter, that’s for sure. But what about you, Your Highness? Do you think we will go to hell for this?’

Dongmin watched him, sprawled on the rough wood of the table in front of him, half-naked, and found he couldn’t care less about eternal damnation, not with Bin right there, one touch away, skin glowing like gold in the light of the torch.

He climbed onto the table, knelt between Bin’s spread legs. 

‘I don’t care about hell tonight. I want to get drunk,’ he whispered, locking Bin’s eyes with his. ‘I want to get drunk so I can forget about everything, so drunk that I forget who I am.’

Bin stilled. He reached for the flask next to his head and handed it to Dongmin. He smiled. ‘Then do it, Your Highness. Drink.’

Dongmin couldn’t taste the sweetness anymore. The wine felt tangy on his tongue, slipping coolly down his throat, soothing the burning within.

Some dribbled down his chin but he didn’t care. When he drank with others, he was sensible - always paced himself, always in check so that he would not be the first one under the table. Tonight was different. Tonight, he desperately wanted oblivion.

When he couldn’t drink anymore, he slammed the pouch on the table and wiped his mouth, gasping for air.

Bin watched him with an amused smile. ‘What about me, Your Highness?’ he laughed softly but didn’t make a move to sit up.

Dongmin smirked. With one hand, he braced himself against Bin’ thigh and leaned over his body. ‘Open up.’

He watched the golden nectar pouring into Bin’s mouth, stray droplets spraying Bin’s face, some pooling in the hollow of his throat like sweet ambrosia from the heavens.

Bin swallowed, coughed a little and laughed. ‘Enough. You are wasting a lot of it like this.’

He wrestled the pouch out of Dongmin’s hand, propped himself on one elbow and drank in long, greedy gulps, then turned it upside down.

The last few drops trickled onto his chest. ‘Well, Your Highness, that’s it. Your first theft.’

He started giggling, letting himself fall backwards again, head thunking against the wood of the table.

‘Look. There is still some left for you, Your Highness.’

Dongmin watched, transfixed, how the spilled wine on Bin’s body looked like diamonds, the flames reflected in every drop.

‘Drink. We might not be able to see each other after tonight,’ whispered Bin. ‘This is all we have.’

Dongmin sat frozen, unable to move.

‘Drink, Your Highness,’ laughed Bin softly and closed his eyes.

Dongmin drank. He licked at every single droplet, until Bin’s laughter died down and he was gasping under Dongmin’s lips on his throat, under Dongmin’s hands pinning his hips against the table, until there was nothing more to drink, nothing more but the sweet softness of Bin’s lips, his chest, his stomach-

The sound of footsteps made Dongmin’s blood freeze.

He sat up. ‘Jesus Christ!’

Shaking with panic, he jumped off the table. ‘Get up, Binnie, get up! Someone’s here!’

He yanked at Bin’s hand to get him to sit up.

His fingers were trembling as he fished Bin’s tunic from under the table and thrust it into his lap. ‘Get dressed! I will go and distract them. It’s worth trying. I will tell them that I made you come with me and have a drink. No one will punish me.’

Bin was watching him mutely, as if he was awaking from a dream, eyes unfocused. 

Dongmin listened to the footsteps getting closer and felt sick. He was stuffing his shirt into his breeches. ‘Get dressed, Binnie, for the love of God! I might be able to lie my way out of this but if they find you here like this, half-naked, you’re dead! Binnie, I beg you!’

Bin shuddered. He stared at Dongmin for a moment, fingers gripping the rough fabric of his shirt. ‘Your Highness-‘

The footsteps were coming closer.

‘Get dressed,’ hissed Dongmin. ‘For the love of God, get dressed!’

Bin smiled at him droopily and blinked. ‘You are so beautiful-‘

Then he toppled back onto the table again.

‘Your Highness?’

Dongmin whirled around.

Sanha stood in front of him, his big child-like eyes huge. ‘Your – Your Highness – I was sent to fetch a bottle of brandy – Your Highness?‘

This was it.

Dongmin felt queasy. He followed Sanha’s horrified gaze towards Bin, sprawled on the long table, shirtless, with his breaches unfastened and yanked low. There was a purple bruise blooming on his neck, and another one on his chest, and Dongmin knew he would not be able to explain things away, no matter how much he wanted to.

‘Your Highness,’ Sanha’s voice broke him out of his stupor. ‘Your Highness, we need to-‘

The boy motioned towards Bin but when Dongmin didn’t move, he lunged for the table and yanked Bin upright. He grabbed the tunic that was hanging limply in Bin’s hands and started hastily pulling it over Bin’s head.

Dongmin felt hazy. ‘What- What are you doing?’ 

‘I will get him back to the garrison, Your Highness,’ Sanha grunted under Bin’s weight as he tried to get him to sit upright. ‘Before anyone sees him like this. And you should probably return to the Keep.’

As if moving in trance, Dongmin moved closer to help. Bin was a dead weight, swaying from side to side with his eyes closed, a wide grin plastered on his face.

‘Sanha, why are you helping him? And me?’

Sanha finished stuffing Bin’s arms into the sleeves of his tunic while Dongmin was holding him. After a painfully long pause, he looked up. His soft, young face was set in a grim expression.

‘I’m helping you because I know what it feels like.’

Dongmin gaped. ‘You… What?’

‘I’m like you – or him – Your Highness,’ his voice grew bitter. ‘I’m Yoon Sanha, my father is the Steward of Saltfort. You come to Saltfort every summer, Your Highness, but I bet you never saw me there. I wage you never even knew my father had a son.’

‘No, well, I didn’t,’ stammered Dongmin.

‘That’s because I was kept away. The stain on my family’s honour, the black sheep tainting my father’s pristine reputation. The charge for sodomy is death, Your Highness, but that would have meant for my father to admit what a wicked son he had – it was easier to hide me and pretend I didn’t exist.’

For a moment, Dongmin forgot about him and Bin, and focused on Sanha’s pinched face. 

Sanha sighed and hauled Bin up to his feet. ‘I was sent off to join the Guard, Your Highness, so that my father could get rid of me in a way that wouldn’t cast a shadow on our family. Come, help me.’

For a heartbeat, Dongmin watched as Sanha struggled with Bin who was swaying wildly on his feet, then hesitantly came closer and wrapped one of Bin’s arms over his shoulder. His cheeks burned when Bin immediately nuzzled at his neck, trying to kiss him.

Sanha gave him a quick glance. ‘Maybe this is not such a good idea.’

He grabbed Bin by his waist and pulled him away from Dongmin. ‘As I've said, I will take him back to the garrison, Your Highness. Will spin some tale how a nice girl in the kitchens took a shine to him and plied him with food and brandy, the handsome boy he is. Everyone will laugh but he will sleep it off and be alright tomorrow. You stay here for a bit, then go back to the Keep. I am not sure how you got here when the door was supposed to be locked-.’

‘There is a spare key,’ whispered Dongmin hoarsely.

‘Splendid,’ Sanha tightened his grip on Bin’s waist. ‘Lock the door, go to your room, no one will be any wiser tomorrow morning.’

Dongmin leaned against the damp stone wall, head spinning. ‘But why? Why are you helping us?’

Sanha turned to him. ‘Because one day it won’t be Bin, Your Highness – or you - who will need help. One day it might be me,’ he said simply.

Dongmin watched them leaving, Bin slumped heavily against Sanha’s shoulder, the boy struggling under his weight.

Once they disappeared around the bend, he sat in the semi-darkness for a while, wondering if this was the beginning of the end.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some sexual content ahead hence the charged rating 
> 
> Have fun!

**Year 57 of the House of Lee. The Month of Thawing Ice.**

The cloth felt warm against Dongmin’s fingers, warm and smooth. He stroked the material, his thumb tracing the subtle pattern woven into the fabric.

‘It will look splendid on you, my son.’

His mother was watching him with intent eyes, her face a smooth, impeccable mask.

Dongmin smiled and let go of the fabric. ‘Thank you, Mother.’

‘Your Highness, if you please - your arms -’

Dongmin obediently stepped away from the side table where several rolls of cloth were displayed, and stretched his arms wide. The taylor scuttled along, taking his measurements, while the Queen watched, swelling with maternal pride.

‘I have seen that Your Highness has noticed the fabrics we have brought for him to look at. The dark green wool that His Highness was inspecting earlier will perhaps be used for his surcoat - if he deems it acceptable.’

The man’s movements were brisk, only the faintest tremor belying the smoothness of his manner. Dongmin didn't pay him any attention and mutely stared ahead, at his reflection in a large Venetian mirror on the wall.

‘Oh, those are all very fine cloths,’ his mother hastened to reassure, when the silence stretched for too long. ‘You have chosen well.’

The old man’s face reddened at the praise. ‘Thank you, Your Grace. 

The Queen strode across the room and brought the bundle closer to the window. She stroked the damask with her long, elegant fingers.

‘I rather think the colour will suit Prince Dongmin. It is darker than the usual shade of green worn at weddings but I am rather partial to it. He will look good in it.’

Dongmin kept looking at his own reflection.

‘If you allow me, Your Grace,’ the tailor waved at one of the maids hovering near the door and she brought another roll of fabric, a fine, off-white woollen cloth for the Queen to inspect.

‘I was thinking - unless Your Grace had something else in mind - that the rest of His Highness’ garb could be white. To maintain the tradition, we would add red piping on the surcoat and red embroidery on the tunic. That way the wedding colours will be represented, even if not in the usual manner. Seeing that Her Royal Highness Princess Maya will not -’ his voice faltered a little, ‘I thought this might be a way -’

He trailed off a little uncertainty and the odd drop of his voice made Dongmin look up.

‘What do you mean,’ he eyed the man with a frown and saw him shrinking under his gaze. ‘What about Princess Maya?’

‘Your betrothed,’ interrupted his mother briskly, ‘will not be dressed in the traditional red, green and white for the wedding.’

Dongmin gaped. ‘What?’

‘She asked to be allowed to wear the colour of her people,’ his mother said quietly. ‘White, sky-blue and gold.’

Dongmin closed his eyes for a moment. The memories of the wedding in Maarfield from last month - the green of the bride’s skirts, the red ribbons in her hair, the wide smile on the groom’s face - made his heart clench in a hot, painful way. 

He will never have that. 

He had no say in whom he would marry or when. Everything about the wedding - the guests, the seating, the choice of his best man - all of it had already been decided for him, calculated with cold precision, the political impact of every minute detail considered from every angle.

And now, it seemed, even the sacred tradition of the bride wearing colours that were to bring luck and fertility to the union - even that was somehow being stripped away from him.

‘But - why?’ he whispered unhappily.

In the face of his wordless confusion, the Queen’s face softened and she took Dongmin’s hand, leading him to the window seat. She lowered herself onto the faded brocade cushion and motioned for Dongmin to take a seat next to her.

‘Leave us,’ she waved a dismissing hand at the tailor and his attendants, and they hastily left the room.

‘My boy,’ her fingers gently squeezed Dongmin’s, ‘your marriage to Princess Maya will strengthen the union between our country and the Southern Kingdom. You are not a child anymore, I know you see the importance of that.’

Dongmin watched their intertwined fingers and didn’t speak.

‘We are a nation of farmers, Dongmin,’ his mother patted his hand mildly. ‘The fruit orchards and olive groves around White City, the endless fields of barley and rye in the North - that’s what we are. Our lands are vast and our soil is fertile. The bountiful harvests have for many years filled the barns of our people and fed many mouths. Our country has been blessed with riches many other kingdoms could only dream of.’

‘But -’ The Queen sighed a little, her gaze wandering across the room.

‘As the Crown Prince, you are a member of the High Council, Dongmin. You sit there every week and listen - I don’t need to tell you that times are turning. We might be rich now but the future is in trade; you father knows that and I am sure you know it too. Saltport is our only access to the sea, the only tiny strip of coastline we have.’

Dongmin shook his head. ‘But I know that much, Mother. Should the Southern Kingdom decide to attack Saltport, we would be cut off from the sea - and all the sea trade routes.’

‘Well, I see you understand the importance of keeping our neighbour happy then - and your role in it,’ his mother’s voice grew sharper, eyebrows arched high. ‘So now that Princess Maya has expressed a wish regarding her wedding dress, surely we can indulge her whim, tradition or not.’

Dongmin stared ahead, jaw clenched tight, and the Queen’s face softened again.

‘Your betrothed is everything your father and I have wished for you - well brought-up, beautiful, obedient. She will be a good wife, Dongmin. But you have to see that by marrying you, she will give up her world and adopt ours as her own. In exchange, it shouldn't be a great sacrifice for us to allow her what she has asked for on her wedding day.’

Dongmin understood - his calm, analytical brain didn't find any fault in his mother’s words - but the hot, uncomfortable feeling in his chest didn’t quite subside. 

He forced himself to stay calm. Did it truly matter? Was a wedding dress really that important if the whole wedding was something he didn't want? Suddenly he felt weary to the bone.

‘Do as you please, Mother. I don’t care.’ 

A shadow of hurt crossed his mother’s face and he backtracked immediately, feeling guilty. His mother only did what she thought best and what his father had decided; there was no point in taking out his anger on her.

‘I - I do not care, Mother. About the details. It is merely a day, am I right? Who should care about one day?’

His mother squeezed his fingers again. She sounded relieved.

‘You are quite right, my boy. The wedding day is just that - a day. The fate of your marriage doesn’t depend on one single occasion, no matter what the legends and traditions say. The lack of green in Princess Maya’s attire will not be a bad omen for your new life together; the red ribbons missing in her hair will not cause your marriage to become childless. All those things - the happiness, the children - lie in the hands of God and in your own hands.’

A chill ran down Dongmin’s spine at the mention of children. He gulped and did his best to keep his voice steady.

‘I shall be very happy to see my betrothed in any colours she chooses to wear on the day of our wedding. I am sure she will look beautiful.’

………….………………

Back in his room that night, he curled up in a tight ball under the covers and tried not to succumb to panic. 

He wasn’t bothered about Maya’s wedding dress anymore; there was a much bigger worry that loomed, sickeningly, in his mind. The conversation with his mother reminded him sharply of the fact that his first and foremost task as a married man would be to produce an heir.

He broke up in cold sweat. There was a reason why he never chose to join his friends when they decided to go on a prowl in the less salubrious part of town, seeking pleasure of the carnal nature. 

Women never really intrigued him much unless they had something interesting to say - and even then he was not likely to remember the colour of their eyes or even their names after a while, no matter how much his friends teased him about it.

Dongmin rocked under the heavy blankets and tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes, the tightness in his chest.

Maybe he should talk to someone.

Perhaps he could ask Jinwoo; surely he had some experience. His best friend was quick with a smile and a kind word for any pretty girl he could lay his eyes upon. Surely he would know what to do in bed.

No. Dongmin furiously fought the tears. No. Jinwoo was a righteous man, he would probably say that the sacred union between man and woman should only happen after they were wed, and that Dongmin would know what to do because it’s in man's nature to know.

No. He shall not go to Jinwoo.

Dongmin squeezed his eyes shut and suddenly thought of Bin, of his words back in Rivervale - _there_ _are_ _houses_ _where_ _women_ _will_ _teach_ _you_ _if_ _you_ _pay_ _them_ \- and his cheeks burned.

Maybe he should do as Bin told him. Maybe he should follow Bin’s advice.

Bin.

Oh, good God, Bin.

Dongmin pressed his face into the pillow and groaned.

Why could he not marry Bin?

Or a boy at least? Any boy?

Even if he had no idea what to do, should he find himself in bed with a man, Dongmin knew with certainty that he would at least _enjoy_ it.

God, he missed Bin.

Six weeks had passed since their return from High Castle and they didn’t have a chance to exchange a single word.

The only time Dongmin caught a sight of Bin was when he was passing the gate to the guards’ compound and saw a group of recruits finishing their training session. Bin was amongst them, almost unrecognisable with his hair cropped short, holding a longsword. The sight of his naked neck upset Dongmin; somehow it felt worse than seeing Bin sweaty, trembling with exhaustion, his hands barely able to slide the sword into the sheath at his hip.

Dongmin had watched him leaving, frozen to the spot, until Bin disappeared around the corner, in the direction of the barracks.

The image hurt, reminding him only of the futility of it all, of the fact that he and Bin were no closer than before, back when Bin lived in Rivervale and there was a three-day-ride distance between them.

Bin.

He pushed his face deeper into the pillow and slid his hand between his legs, thinking of Bin’s long hair from before, before it got cut and thrown away - how it had felt against his mouth, warm and silky, the way it had smelled -

And suddenly, his mind was full of Bin, the images flooding his brain, Bin’s lips on his in the Rivervale woods, Bin in the High Castle cellars, shirtless, the droplets of wine on his bare chest - and, oh, it hurt, the emptiness in his chest, the knowledge that he will never, _never_ be able to embrace the boy whom he loved - but he had no strength to fight it anymore, not now, not when the future looked bleak and without hope, and he squeezed his eyes shut and tugged harder and came with Bin’s name on his lips.

……………………………..

‘Father?’ Dongmin wiped his sweaty palms against the fine wool of his tunic and straightened his back.

King Hwan looked up from a thick book – Dongmin recognised the ‘History of Our Great Realm’ – and frowned. 

‘What is it? You should be with Master Son, studying our great kings of the past.’

‘And we have done that, Father,’ Dongmin offered a polite bow. ‘He was pleased with me today and we have concluded our lesson but I shall be grateful if you could hear me out. I have a question regarding my wedding.’

‘I thought your mother was responsible for overseeing the details – food, decorations and all that. I don’t have time for that. Is something amiss? Trust your mother to make a mess out of things.’

‘The preparations are progressing very well,’ Dongmin assured him hastily. ‘But I wanted to ask you about the – about the wedding night.’ 

The King’s brows furrowed. ‘What about it? All the procedures would have been explained to you by the Master of Ceremony and I’m sure your bride was instructed to be respectful and willing. The only thing expected of you is to perform.’

King Hwan stood up from the desk and measured Dongmin up and down. 

‘I hope you will not disappoint me.’

His father’s words were quiet but they chilled Dongmin to the core. He tried his best not to shake.

‘It is precisely that what I wanted to talk to you about.’

King Hwan frowned. ‘What is there to talk about? Princess Maya will be your wife before God and it is her duty to please her husband.’

Dongmin closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. ‘I know, Father; I am sure the Princess will make a wonderful wife, in every respect.’ 

‘So what is the matter?’ the King’s voice grew impatient. ‘I think that I made it clear to you that this marriage is your duty. I don’t want to hear anything about how you don’t want to do it – and I expect impeccable behaviour from you in the last months before the wedding. I will not have the heir to the throne gallivanting in the palace gardens with – boys.’

He leaned closer and hissed in Dongmin’s ear. ‘It might have been three years ago, boy, but don’t you think for one moment that I have forgotten. You know exactly what I am talking about. We both know you are very lucky that you are my son, otherwise you would be long dead, burnt on stake for sodomy!’

There was a heartbeat of silence. Dongmin felt lightheaded, as if a rug was snatched from under his feet.

‘So it _was_ you!’ he gasped. ‘And you did it on purpose! You have sent him away!’

King Hwan snorted derisively. ‘Of course it was me! Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you really think that you were so clever, sneaking out of your rooms all the time, running around with that dirty little bastard smelling of manure? Don’t be a fool!’

The fears were only one blink away but Dongmin didn’t care. ‘He was my friend!’

‘Please,’ his father merely rolled his eyes. ‘You can't be friends with a stable boy. You are the Crown Prince, the heir to the throne. Don’t forget that. The servants are not our friends; they are here to do what their name suggests – to serve.’ 

There was no stopping the tears now, spilling hot down Dongmin’s cheeks. ‘He was my friend!’

The slap landing on his cheek stung. 

‘Don’t you ever mention him again!’ the King roared, veins in his neck bulging. ‘Be glad that I have sent him away – if anyone else saw you holding hands with him and gazing into the eyes of a stable boy like a lovesick puppy, you wouldn’t be here, you stupid, stupid fool!’

As if realising that he was speaking too loud, the King checked himself.

‘Forget about the little bastard and focus on your wedding,’ he murmured, breathing heavily. ‘You are lucky to be getting married to such a beautiful young woman and I hope you will not disappoint me.’

‘Yes, Father.’ Dongmin clenched his fists and felt his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms. ‘I am very lucky and I will do everything to not disappoint you.’

He stepped back a little and forced himself to look into the King’s eyes. ‘I would like to visit a pleasure house sometime before my wedding.’

‘Oh!’ King’s eyebrows shot high. ‘To have a little bit of fun before you are wed? I would not have expected such a request – you have pleasantly surprised me. But you can visit anytime, before the wedding – or after; you know that you don’t need my permission for that.’

He leaned closer, the scowl replaced by a smirk. ‘What your wife doesn’t see will not hurt her. And even if she saw – you will show her you are the man.’

Dongmin fought the feeling of nausea in his stomach. ‘I… I appreciate the advice, Father. But I would rather go before the wedding.’

‘Go then,’ the King shrugged. ‘I have nothing against it. As a matter of fact, I used to visit one or two of the finer houses myself when I was your age.’

He stepped closer, piercing his son with a hard stare. ‘Go. Who knows? It might make you into a man.

Dongmin fought the urge to back away, to cower. He didn’t dare to blink lest the tears started rolling down his cheeks again. He knew it would enrage his father even more.

‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ he couldn’t resist the tiniest hint of rebellion in his voice.

‘Are you mocking me?’ his father stepped closer, his fists clenching at his sides. 

‘No, Father,’ Dongmin did his best to keep his voice steady. ‘You are my father and our King.’

‘What an utter fool you are! Nobody cares about you more than me,’ King Hwan hissed into his face. ‘I want you to grow up a strong man, not a weakling! Do you understand that? I want you to be a real man, a fitting heir to the throne!’

‘Of course, Father. I am very thankful, Father.

‘Oh, just leave,’ the King rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. ‘Ask Lord Shin to go with you. He knows all the establishments these days.’

Dongmin shuddered at the sound of the King’s dark chuckle but bowed politely.

‘Thank you, Father. I shall ask for Lord Shin’s guidance.’

He closed the door behind him as softly as he could.

Only in the safety of his own room he allowed the tears of humiliation to come.

……….…………………..

The interior of the room was sumptuous, heavy curtains hanging on the windows, ornate cushions scattered on the floor and on low sofas dotted around the room.

Dongmin had no idea what a pleasure house would look like but it was a pleasant surprise to see that the decor was in rather better taste than he had expected.

The room where Lord Shin and he were ushered upon their arrival was empty but there were sounds behind several doors leading out of it - some closed, some open – soft sounds of whispers and hurried, light footsteps.

Dongmin prayed the whole night would be over soon.

He had barely time to cast a look around when a portly, middle-aged man clad in swathes of expensive brocade greeted them with a deep bow and ushered them next door. 

The room was smaller, the furnishings less ostentatious but equally expensive.

‘Please, do sit down, Your Royal Highness. My Lord. I shall summon the girls.’

Dongmin followed Lord Shin’s example and sat down on an ornate little sofa in the middle of the room.

The owner disappeared behind a door that was blending in with the wooden panelling and, a second later, five young women entered. 

Dongmin felt himself breaking into a cold sweat.

The owner motioned for them to step forward and they fell into a formation, three in front of Dongmin and two in front of Lord Shin.

‘Lord Shin,’ the owner bowed, ‘I can assure you, we have selected the best of the best for His Royal Highness - as you have instructed. Because you have not specified his preferences, we thought he might want to choose now. And for you – your usual, my Lord.’

Both girls standing in front of Lord Shin giggled and smiled sweetly as he beckoned them to come closer.

The sweat on Dongmin’s forehead must have been obvious to the girls. Dongmin saw their smiles, so smooth and sweet, so radiant - he had no illusions though. This was business.

Trying to quell the panic spreading through his body like a wildfire, he quickly eyed the three young women in front of him. 

The girl on the left was standing a little closer to him than the others, her petite, slim body radiating confidence. The sharp, intelligent face scared Dongmin slightly. He asked himself whether she would see through him straightaway, to judge him for what he was – a lie.

Ignoring her direct gaze, he quickly averted his eyes and appraised the girl in the middle. Younger by a couple of years, her face was softer - and where her friend was all slim silhouette and slender limbs, she possessed voluptuous curves and snow-white skin that reminded Dongmin of soft pillows and fluffy clouds. 

‘Do you have any preference, Your Highness?’

The owner’s voice was impeccably polite but Dongmin thought he could detect the faintest trace of - what really? Impatience? Mockery?

‘I am – I am not sure.’ 

He sounded pathetic even to himself. 

The last girl, as if sensing his discomfort, gave him a soft, almost encouraging smile. She was tall, almost lanky, probably the youngest of the three. Her hair was straight, falling down her back and not swept up in an elaborate do. Her eyes, icy blue and standing out in her pale face, had something comforting in them. The smile – no-nonsense and quick - lacked the sugary sweetness of the owner’s gaze or the shrewd appraisal that he could read in the eyes of the other women. 

‘Well, if His Royal Highness can't decide now,’ Lord Shin’s booming voice interrupted the awkward silence, ‘ he will take all three and make up his mind later. Or not,’ he added with a wicked grin.

Dongmin opened his mouth, was ready to protest, but the owner clapped his hands with the widest smile possible and cheerfully proclaimed the matter concluded.

‘Your Royal Highness, if you please,’ he offered a sweeping bow and pointed to a door that Dongmin had not spotted before. ‘The girls will show you the way.’ 

From the way Lord Shin was leering at his women, Dongmin could see his companion was eager to disappear into a private chamber and get on with whatever he was planning to do, so he merely nodded and got up from the sofa. 

‘Thank you,’ he inclined his head briefly, reminding himself that the less he spoke the better. His shaking voice would give him away in an instant. 

Entering the chamber with his head bowed low, he startled as the small, dark girl took him by hand and led him to a loveseat near the window. 

There was not much sunlight streaming through the window panes; the rich folds of sheer muslin curtains the colour of burnt orange were falling to the floor, making the room bask in a warm, reddish glow. 

There was a bed – of course there was a bed – with silken sheets and soft pillows and a little side table next to it, bearing a chilled carafe of wine and a platter heaped with delicacies. 

There was also – to Dongmin’s astonishment – a large wooden tub full of water, soft tendrils of steam still rising from it, rose petals scattered on the gently rippling surface. 

‘It’s time to make up your mind, Your Highness. Would you like to have a look?’

The dark haired girl – Dongmin thought her the leader of the group – slowly undid the clasps on her gown and the gossamer-this fabric slid from her body. 

She was like the sun, Dongmin though, her golden body glistening in the candlelight, dark tendrils of her hair falling in rich waves on her shoulders.

Dongmin stared at her skin, oiled and smooth - not a blemish, not a hair in sight, only expanses of silken perfection. His mouth went dry.

‘I am Orchid,’ she smiled, arching her exquisite eyebrows slightly, and stepped closer. ‘I do hope Your Highness likes what he sees.’

She took his hand and placed it on her thigh, steered his palm upwards.

He traced the curve of her slim hips, her tiny waist.

She was watching him with a smile, covering his fingers with hers, guiding him. When he cupped her small breast, the palm brushing her nipple, he snatched his hand away.

‘Well,’ Orchid’s smile didn’t give away whether she felt slighted by his rejection or whether she sensed it for what it was - sheer panic.

‘I can see Your Highness likes to take his time and doesn’t make decisions hastily. Very wise.’ 

She offered him a small incline of her head – she didn’t bow, Dongmin noticed – and turned to her companion. ‘Maybe Your Highness would like to examine his other choices.’

The girl next to her didn’t move. For underneath thick lashes, her gaze met Dongmin’s and he felt his face growing hot. 

Slowly, Orchid undid a thin ribbon that held together the girl’s robe and pushed it off her shoulders. 

‘This is Flame.’ 

‘Your Highness.’ 

Where Orchid glowed like polished bronze mirrors, Flame blinded like freshly fallen snow. 

Why Flame, wondered Dongmin vaguely as he tried to look straight into the girl’s eyes, an endeavour that was proving rather difficult when faced with the dramatic curves of her body and the milky smoothness of her white skin. 

This time, Dongmin’s hand reached out of his own volition and Flame smiled and stepped closer, letting his palm drink in the ample curve of her hips.

‘Why are you called Flame?’ he whispered and wondered how would it feel if he rested his head between her soft, round breasts, closed his eyes and fell asleep. 

Something flashed in her gaze upon hearing his question, soft and amused, and she reached up and pulled a heavy silver comb out of her hair. 

A mass of ginger curls tumbled down her back, like coppery flames licking gently at her cheeks and neck and covering her chest.

The room suddenly felt hotter. 

‘Ah.’

The sound escaping Dongmin’s lips was small, strangled, and he had a strong suspicion Flame was giggling inside and enjoying his gaping. 

‘Do you think my name fitting, Your Highness?’ she smiled softly, head cocked gently.

‘It’s… It’s beautiful.’

‘Do I take Your Majesty has made up his mind?’

Dongmin jumped a little as Orchid’s sudden question caught him unawares. 

‘Not… Not quite, not yet.’ Hastily, he let his hand slide off Flame’s hip and turned to the third girl. 

‘What’s your name?’

He felt bad that he had wholly forgotten her to be there and did his best to smile.

‘I am Daisy, You Highness,’ she bowed her head a little stiffly and, without much ceremony, shook off her thin robe.

A cold shadow crept up Dongmin’s spine.

With the three women standing in front of him, he could see the owner’s reasoning behind choosing each one of them for tonight.

Orchid, with her sharp intelligence and teasing glances, Flame and the maternal warmth of her soft body and Daisy. 

Daisy, with piercing blue eyes and plain dark hair, the childish roundness of her cheeks belying the resigned weariness of her stance, her coltish long limbs reminding Dongmin of the newborn foals that will soon be welcomed in the Royal stables.

Unlike the other two, Daisy’s face was devoid of face paint and - to Dongmin fascination – she wasn’t waxed.

He almost reached out to stroke the soft downy hair between her legs when something in her eyes made him withdraw his hand.

It was the blue in them. 

Blue like the sky during the Month of Harvest.

Blue like the Gaian Sea, whose gentle waves he thought of now and which reminded him of the time when he had visited the Southern Kingdom and seen his future bride for the first time.

Maya had the same blue eyes. They shone, bright and innocent, in a face that might not look much like Daisy’s but had the same childlike softness still clinging to it. 

He drew a shuddery breath and knew that he would not touch Daisy tonight. 

‘Yours is a beautiful name too,’ he smiled at the girl, noting how her shoulders relaxed a little. ‘Daisies were my favourite flowers when I was little. Nurse taught me how to make daisy chains.’ 

She chuckled a little, amused at the thought of the heir of the throne, sitting in the grass and picking flowers. 

Dongmin watched her cheeks turning pink and felt proud at having put her at ease. 

‘I am glad I met you tonight,’ he bowed his head a little. ‘You made me remember those happy days.’ 

Something in the girl’s gaze shifted, grew heavier. 

‘Would His Highness… wish me to… help him remember more?’

Something in the smooth coyness of her word made him feel sick. 

Words like this shouldn’t be spoken by a child.

‘I am very honoured,’ he bowed again, ‘but I have made my decision.’

The look in the girl’s eyes hardened for a moment – a mere glimpse, quickly doused down – and she smiled pleasantly. ‘Of course, Your Highness.’

Only a second later it dawned on him that this was loss of income for her, an opportunity lost, a night wasted.

‘Do not worry,’ he reassured her hastily. ’I will make sure that those of you who will not keep me company tonight, will also be compensated accordingly.’

This time, the girl’s bow was deeper, the cadence of her voice genuine. ‘God bless you, Your Highness.’

He smiled, relieved. He might be a fraud but at least he made someone happy tonight 

Feeling lighter, he reached for Flame’s hand and she went easily, settling with practised ease on his lap.

His fingers dug into the soft, pliant flesh of her thigh and he rested his forehead on her shoulder. 

‘Could you send your friends away?’ he whispered into the softness of her skin, closing his eyes.

From the way her body arched a little, he guessed Flame must have beckoned for the others to leave and a short moment later, the door swung shut with a soft thud.

Dongmin exhaled deeply but didn’t move.

Flame waited patiently, one arm cradling Dongmin’s shoulders. 

‘Your Highness looks tired,’ she whispered softly into his hair.

‘I am. So tired.’

‘Maybe Your Highness should rest a little first.’

‘Stop calling me that. Call me by my name.’

‘As you wish, Your Highness - although it does - It does seem so disrespectful.’

Dongmin smiled a little. ‘I want to be myself here, not the Crown Prince.’

‘But you are not, Your Hi-, Dongmin. Why are you here?’

Dongmin reddened but didn’t answer.

Flame softly stroked his cheek. ‘Have you been with a woman before?’

There was no point lying; he felt too tired for that. ‘No.’ 

‘Time for you to have a rest first then. How about a bath?’

The thought of slipping into warm, scented water and closing his eyes was too tempting. He nodded mutely and didn’t protest when Flame’s deft fingers started removing his clothes.

Once in the tub, he closed his eyes with a shaky exhale and leaned back. If he had a choice, he would spend an hour in the bath, napping, and head back. The reality of why he was here was weighing on his shoulders though and he could not help but sigh one more time.

‘Why are you really here?’

Dongmin opened his eyes. Flame was watching him, her pleasant face inscrutable.

‘Forgive me for being so blunt, Your Highness, but you like you would prefer to be anywhere but here. Is something the matter? Is something troubling you? I could help you to forget your troubles.’

The last sentence fell coy from her lips but there was not a trace of any of it on her face, only gentle concern.

A brief surge of anger flamed up in Dongmin’s gut but he doused it down quickly. It was not the girl’s fault he didn’t want to be here, nor the fact that she picked up on it.

In the end, he opted for the truth.

‘I’m getting married in three months; I want to learn how to please my wife.’ 

Her face fell apart for a second, fragile softness replacing the carefully schooled smooth expression that had been there before.

‘You are a good man.’ 

Dongmin ducked his head, eyes trained on the rose petals. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are. 

Scooting closer, she took Dongmin’s hand. Her skin was dewy in the soft steam rising from the water, a couple of tendrils escaping and falling down onto her soft breasts. 

‘You are kind - and kindness is hard to come by amongst powerful men, Your Highness. You think of others, not just about yourself.’

Her other hand trailed down Dongmin’s chest.

‘I will be honoured to teach you everything you need to know.’

.....................................

Back in the front room, legs still shaking and Flame’s careful hand between his shoulder blades, he saw Lord Shin was already waiting for him. The girls were still keeping him company but the man’s face betrayed boredom. When seeing Dongmin, however, he stood up abruptly, his face creased in a smile that was not quite innocent.

‘Your Highness! I hope you had a good time.’

Dongmin nodded curtly, not even trying to formulate an answer. His head was spinning a little and he almost opened the wrong door in his haste to leave.

The girls giggled but Flame threw them a deadly glare and steered him gently into the right direction. Lord Shin grunted at the girls to make themselves scarce and followed in Dongmin’s wake.

As if by magic, the owner appeared at the door. ‘Your Highness!’ 

The man’s sly smile made Dongmin want to throw up.

‘I trust everything was to your… satisfaction, Your Highness?’

On his back, Dongmin could feel Flame’s hand tense, just a fraction.

‘Oh, everything was excellent,’ he forced a smile back, dying to be out of the door. ‘But i need to - I need to go now.’

‘Of course, of course, Your Highness has places to go-’

Dongmin ignored him and threw Flame a shy sideways glance. ‘I - Thank you.’

She stroked his back gently. ‘God bless you, Your Highness, and you bride.’

He ducked his head, feeling his face growing hot.

The owner bowed so low he almost folded in half. Flame threw him one last soft smile and slipped away.

The servant waiting at the front door opened it wide and Lord Shin motioned for Dongmin to leave, when a commotion behind their backs made them turn.

‘You ungrateful little wrench!’

The same door Flame disappeared through earlier flew wide open.

A burly, older man squeezed through, muttering curses under his breath and roughly dragging someone behind him. ‘I was promised an obedient little-’

‘My Lord,’ the owner interrupted smoothly, ‘let me offer you someone else if Blossom wasn't quite to your taste.’

He hissed at the slender, cowering figure to get away and swiftly steered the man towards another door. ‘This way, my Lord.’

Dongmin stared. Blossom, standing frozen in the middle of the room locked eyes with him. Dongmin’s gaze slid over the soft long hair, the full lips opened in surprise, the shocked expression.

Then Blossom was whisked away and Dongmin ushered outside, into the word that suddenly seemed to be standing on its head.

He staggered into the street, ignoring Lord Shin’s sly remarks, dazed.

Blossom.

Blossom was a boy.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on Twitter [@papillon8776](https://twitter.com/papillon8776) if you want to talk fics and Astro :-)


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